I pull out of you with a satisfied grin, feeling you already swell up by the passing second. You'll have my baby breaking you any second now, and it'll be delicious to watch you as you birth right here in front of me. "I hope you're ready, darling, this is going to hurt."
(As a general warning, reminder that this is a long and painful birth. If discussions of distress during birth trigger you, maybe skip this one <3)
Labor starts one hour after these potions kick in, so I barely get any rest at all. I wake to a deeply uncomfortable aching in my stomach, and look down to see my belly an angry red with stretch marks. My chest, flattened out by surgery, has grown again slightly, tips leaky with milk. The baby is big and it's in just the right spot to stretch me the most. I groan slightly and look around for you, and not seeing you immediately, try to sit up.
And that's when the first contraction hits. I scream, the force of my body ramming my baby into my unprepared cervix sending shocks up my spine for minutes afterward. Gestation may have only taken an hour, but labor? I have no idea how long I'll be here. And judging by the pain, it's going to be some time.
I can feel the tension wrap around my abdomen with each contraction, my eyes wide. "No, no, nonononoNNNNNH--" I wail, praying that my body listens and stops pushing, I'm not ready. I try to stick my fingers inside to check and cringe, my cervix already sensitive.
Hours later, I'm still in the throes of the first stage. I'm cold with old sweat and my face is soaked in tears and snot. My throat is hoarse from crying, and I haven't yet been fully able to peel off the clothes I foolishly tried to put on twenty minutes in. Like I was going to make it to the hospital.
Finally, I begin to feel the baby drop into my canal. "S--ss-sstretching me, oh, god," I whimper, voice half gone. "Full, full, too much, too much--" my voice cracks and I choke back a sob, dedicating my energy to pushing. The contraction fades and I go nearly limp for a moment before pushing out of turn, trying so desperately for this to all be over. "Stop it, stop it, please, please just get out of me," I plead with my little one, white-knuckling the counter as I bear down again. With each completed contraction, I feel the baby slide backwards, and this marathon birthing only drags on.
I saw the sun set before I had that potion. It's now midday and I'm not even bulging yet. My legs have gone numb with the tension as I try fruitlessly to push more. I don't dare try to press on my stomach with my hands--I don't want to hurt the baby, even as its progress is tearing me apart--but I feel like I'm losing this battle.
Finally, blissfully, I feel my vulva start to stretch as the baby's head flattens my G-spot. I buck my hips in exhausted bliss, happy for the stimulation, if only for a moment. It took long enough to get this baby past my pelvis, and now I have to get it out of my cunt. I bend over, grip the towel I somehow managed to grab yesterday, and push for everything I have. My labia part as the head becomes visible for a moment, then it slips back in. I wail and try again. There it is. And it's gone. And there it is. And it's gone. There it iIIIIIIS--
I scream again as the weight of the baby hits my reddened vulva and stretches it out obscenely, two, three, four, five, seven inches out from its resting place. I shiver and reach down to feel it. "H-hi," I breathe, before pushing again. Nothing. My labia is almost white, the force and the stretch pushing all the blood out of it. "Stop, stop, please, just get out, just--just get--" I sob and push fruitlessly, the burning sensation becoming almost all I can feel.
At this point, I'm starting to get worried for the baby's safety. It's two hours past sunset again, and my water hasn't even broken by this point. I reach down to feel the sac, my vulva still engorged with the crown, and resolve myself. I'm either going to get this baby out now or it's going to be all over.
So I squat on shaky, unforgiving legs, grip the counter, and push. I tense my whole body, from shoulders to chest to belly and try to squeeze this child, your child, this huge, massive, painful, beautiful creature out, it's coming out, it's comi
(CW: upcoming mention of prolapse. The baby and I are fine, if you want to stop here :>)
You find me passed out on the floor, clammy, exhausted beyond belief, with my cunt turned inside out and twitching slightly, an angry, painful red, with your precious baby suckling at my meager chest without a care in the world.
Somewhere in my nearly-dreamless sleep, I think about doing it all again.
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this is just a plot bunny that won’t leave me alone and i need it to, so here. enjoy. (@ishida-kun121 i’m basically thinking something like this)
part 2
Tsuna is an average and unremarkable boy, that much he knows because it’s obvious everyone around him thinks so. They never say it out loud, not to his face, let alone to his dad’s or grandpa’s face. Not when he’s his dad’s cute Tuna-fishy and his grandpa’s spoiled grandson.
Tsuna’s slow, not learning things as quickly as they’d want him to, and not being as good at them as they’d want him to once he does manage to learn them. He’s clumsy, too unsteady and unreliable on his own two feet for sports, let alone fighting. He’s on the timid side, not scared of people but withdrawn around them, and not scared of speaking up either, but he doesn’t have a way with words, and doesn’t often manage to make himself heard.
Tsuna’s many things everyone would rather he was better at, if they wouldn’t rather he was something else entirely, and compared to his cousins? There’s simply no comparison to be had at all.
Tsuna isn’t stupid.
He’s slow at learning things, but he understands things like it’s second nature, has always had.
Tsuna doesn’t understand anything better and faster than he does people, and sometimes before they even understand themselves first.
He’s Sawada Tsunayoshi, and so his family is his mom and dad. But his dad is Vongola, making him Vongola too, and so his family’s also Vongola.
Vongola’s family, that’s true, yet it splits four ways, and the way his cousins sometimes look at each other doesn’t feel like family. Vongola splits Xanxus’ way too, splits Xanxus’ way the most, and the way his dad and grandpa sometimes look at him or glance at each other because of that doesn’t feel like family. Sometimes when they talk about who’ll do his grandpa’s job after him at dinner, the way his dad, grandpa and cousins glance at him, the way their eyes linger on him and the way it makes his mom tense doesn’t feel like family either.
Tsuna’s fine not being able to hold his own compared to his cousins, and doesn’t mind that not anyone thinks much of him. He doesn’t care to split Vongola a fifth way either, it’s even the last thing he wants, but even if he wanted to, because of his dad’s job he couldn’t do it anyway.
It’s something everyone else knows too, but Tsuna isn’t stupid.
His dad’s great-grandparent from long ago is Vongola’s first boss, and he’s his dad’s son. He looks exactly like the first boss too, and only when they tell him how he’s similar to him too in this way and that way, they seem happy with him being the way he is.
Another time they were happy with him was when he first activated his flames, and Tsuna didn’t like it, didn't like the look in their eyes. It didn’t last long because Tsuna doesn’t want to use his flames the way they want him to if at all possible, but he doesn’t like the way they sometimes can’t seem to help but reach out to his flames with theirs, or the way they sometimes seem reluctant to leave his company, their eyes lingering on him as they walk away.
Tsuna doesn’t like that when they’re talking about who’ll do his grandpa’s job after him, sometimes they look at him first.
So Tsuna doesn’t want to split Vongola a fifth way, but he needs to have people on his side too. It’s not that he thinks it’d happen on any of his cousins’ order should it happen, but it’d happen on their behalf, and he sees every day just how cold the eyes of the people around him can turn despite how warm they can be at other times. Tsuna just doesn’t want to end up “an unfortunate accident” or “a job gone wrong”.
More than that and before anything else… Tsuna wants a family of his own, and the kind Vongola can give him isn’t the kind he wants.
The rooms in the Vongola mansion are too big and always too empty, the eyes of the people around him never warm enough, and no one ever looks at him unless he makes them. Vongola treats him like family, has always treated him like family, and it’s not that he dislikes his grandpa or his cousins or the people they and his dad trust, but family still only means his mom to him, and his dad too if he wants.
It won’t be easy, convincing people to be on his side and finding a family of his own. He’s been born all but too late, and all the worthy people are already split between his cousins.
That’s fine. Most of them aren’t even worthy in the way Tsuna wants his people to be worthy anyway. And it will be easy.
Tsuna, despite how average and unremarkable he is, despite how lacking he is at so many things and in everyone’s eyes, has always had a good eye for people. Has always known whose people he wants to be friends with, wants to be close to and wants them to like him too.
And one thing Tsuna’s never failed at, one thing he’s always been good at, is making the people he likes and wants them to like him like him back.
*
Vongola’s known civil wars over inheritance matters over the course of its long history. It’s always a risk as soon as there’s more than one legitimate heir, though of course, only having the one legitimate heir comes with its own worries and risks of seeing the family meets its end.
There’s no such concerns about the inheritance from the Ninth Generation to the Tenth.
Vongola Nono’s three sons have been raised to take upon the mantle of their father ever since they were born, and they’ve grown up to each be able to be a respected, feared, powerful and capable Vongola Decimo in their own ways and in their own rights. There’s competition between them, of course, but Vongola Nono’s three sons have also been raised as brothers who've grown up to love each other, and they know where to draw the line.
The appearance of Vongola Nono’s fourth son doesn’t make the unanimity, to say the least. Yet the boy, a literal nobody from the slums who knew nothing and had nothing to his name except for his flames, grows up to be just as remarkable as his brothers, forcing their respect and recognition out of them. Grows up to be more remarkable than his brothers, some whisper as he grows up to force their loyalty out of them too, and though no one quite dares speaking out loud of how he also grows up to be the most favorite Vongola Decimo candidate, by no means it goes unnoticed.
There’s factions and scheming and many strings being pulled to support each one’s favored Vongola Decimo candidate and assure their ascension to the throne, but nothing coming close to a rift within the family. Vongola is sure to continue flourishing no matter the one who ends up ascending to the throne, and the ones not finding it satisfactory enough in and of itself are swiftly dealt with for the sake of the family.
The inheritance from the Ninth Generation to the Tenth will happen without a hitch and will be a joyful event for Vongola to celebrate, that much everyone knows without a shadow of a doubt.
*
There could be a fifth faction within Vongola, no one bothers to even whisper about it. A fifth heir who could claim a right to the throne too. One who would have that right too, of course, an heir who’d be just as legitimate in that right as the other ones, if not more so.
Yet he’s never part of the picture when such matters are talked about, and it’s not because he can’t actually ascend to the throne as the CEDEF’s boss’ son. Should it come to that for one reason or another, one way or another, it’s a rule they’d be able to break just as easily as they created it.
The boy’s simply… well, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with him. There isn’t, a late bloomer as he may be compared to other boys his age. He even shows potential at times that’d allow him to compare to his cousins if properly trained and nurtured, but shows much more often just in how many ways he’s ill-suited to take on such a heavy mantle.
The boy’s… too much of simply a boy, and there’s nothing wrong with that in civilians’ eyes. But in mafiosi’s, and mafiosi who’re looking for someone who’ll lead them and the family to greater heights still at that, he simply doesn’t have the shoulders for it, to the point it’d be laughable for anyone to claim otherwise.
Vongola splits fourth ways, and no one bothers looking any other way but towards the fourth people they chose to follow.
*
Here’s the thing though: little boys don’t stay little boys forever.
They grow up.
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